Poison Apples
by WatchingTheWatchman
Summary: Before Gin Ichimaru's betrayal, Lieutenant Kira was fanatically devoted to his captain. But no one knows why. What drove a bright young soul reaper to fight against his closest friends, in defense of a man who terrified everyone? The beginnings of an answer can be found in one lonely night shortly after Izuru became a lieutenant. Warning: yaoi, dubcon.
1. Chapter 1

**Poison Apples**

The scratch of a quill pen on parchment was the only sound Lieutenant Izuru could hear as he slid the door open to his captain's quarters. Ichimaru-taicho eschewed more modern forms of writing, preferring to use the methods he had learned in his youth. The eerie hush of the surrounding rooms made the quiet scratching sound abnormally loud, sending a shiver of baseless fear down Izuru's spine. Like the rest of the division, he feared his unpredictable captain's displeasure, but he was only obeying his captain's orders.

Izuru knelt just inside the doorway, blond hair falling over one eye as he bowed his head. The folds of his loose black hakama spread out to either side of his legs as he settled his weight on his heels. He felt strangely naked without his zanpakuto at his side, though he knew that danger couldn't possibly get this far into the Seireitei. Ichimaru continued writing, ignoring the whisper of sound as Izuru slid the door shut behind him. The slender lieutenant sat patiently in seiza while his captain finished his task.

At last Ichimaru turned around, a genial smile affixed firmly on his face. "Now, Izuru, what did you want?" He wore his long white haori over the traditional black shihakusho, despite the late hour.

Izuru kept his eyes studiously on the ground, though he desperately wanted to examine his captain's features for clues on how to answer. "Sir?" he asked cautiously. "You summoned me here."

Amusement was evident in Ichimaru's voice when he replied, "Ya, I know. But why did you come here now? It's after work hours."

Izuru's shoulders tensed. Had he done something wrong by responding to his captain's summons immediately? "I… thought you wanted a prompt response, sir," he said softly.

Ichimaru chuckled, rising from his desk and pacing towards Izuru. The blond lieutenant could hear the soft slap of his sandals on the floor as he drew nearer. When Ichimaru rested a hand on his shoulder, Izuru flinched. Ichimaru sighed. "My, Izuru-chan, do I scare you that much?"

Izuru lifted his head slightly. "You don't scare me!" he responded indignantly, before snapping his mouth shut in horror. "I'm sorry, captain, sir, but you don't," he replied more calmly, though the rapid beating of his heart told a different story. "You…" He trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

The captain's long, slender fingers tightened on his shoulder. Izuru could feel Ichimaru's interest when the foxlike captain asked genially, "I what?"

Izuru shook his head, still staring determinedly at the ground. "It's nothing, sir, I apologize."

With a whisper of fabric, Ichimaru knelt in front of his lieutenant. A corner of Izuru's mind noted that his captain could make even the simplest movements graceful and dangerous – the rest of his mind was trying not to panic at the unexpected move. Ichimaru reached out and lifted Izuru's chin with two fingers, forcing the younger soul reaper to look him in the eye. "No, it's not nothing, Izuru-chan," he said softly. "What is it?" Concern overlaid his voice, but then Ichimaru was an excellent actor.

Izuru shivered. Ichimaru's lidded gaze was piercing. His captain's fingers felt too hot against his skin, but he couldn't back away. Nor could he lie: Ichimaru always knew when someone lied to him. "You can be intimidating at times, sir," Izuru managed diplomatically. Hopefully that was enough truth to satisfy his captain for tonight.

Ichimaru chuckled softly. "Now, Izuru-chan, you can do better than that."

Rather than respond to that loaded statement, the blond lieutenant asked tentatively, "Sir, what did you summon me for?"

Ichimaru rocked back on his heels, disappointment flickering across his face before being wiped away by his customary grin. "Ah, always so efficient," he chided his lieutenant teasingly. "Come, sit with me for a bit. Would you like some tea?" He rose, and Izuru hastily came to his feet as well. "Let us adjourn to the porch." Before leading the way outside, he poured Izuru a cup of fragrant tea from the pot resting on his desk.

Izuru hesitantly settled onto the cushion that Ichimaru offered, cradling the porcelain cup of tea in his hands. Ichimaru sat next to him, slightly too close, staring out at the persimmon trees filling the courtyard. "You know, it took over a decade to get all of them to bloom," he commented absently, gesturing to the trees. The summer breeze bore the scent of the blossoms, which glowed pale in the moonlight.

"They are lovely," Izuru complimented. He had joined the division after most of them had been planted, but he knew that they had been Ichimaru's handiwork.

"They bloom and die so quickly," the captain mused, staring pensively out at the gardens. "But that makes them all the more lovely." Izuru nodded uncertainly, transfixed by the subtle note of pain in his captain's voice.

Ichimaru sighed, resting a hand on Izuru's knee. The younger soul reaper flushed, a painful mixture of emotions surging through him at his captain's touch. This felt like a more vulnerable Ichimaru, without some of the masks he habitually wore. Gone were the cutting sarcasm and perpetual broad smirk. As he studied the orchard, his lips curved in a genuine smile of pride. "Captain…" Izuru started.

"Gin," Ichimaru interrupted. "Here, there is little need for formality."

Izuru flushed hotter, unwilling to call his captain by his first name. "Ichimaru-san," he compromised. "Why did you bring me out here?"

The moonlight cast odd shadows on Ichimaru's face, giving him an almost demonic appearance as he turned to regard Izuru. Izuru couldn't tell what he was thinking behind that inscrutable gaze. The silver-haired captain tilted his head to one side and again reached out to lift Izuru's chin. Izuru shivered. "Do you really want to know?" he whispered, gaze pinned on Izuru.

He would have nodded, but Ichimaru's hand prevented that, so he swallowed and said, "Yes, sir." There didn't seem to be another possible answer.

Ichimaru slid his fingers down until the pads rested over Izuru's jugular. The lieutenant's heart beat like a startled rabbit's, so loud he was sure his captain could hear it. He could surely feel it under his fingertips. Ichimaru's smile widened. "Sweet, innocent Izuru. Even now, you don't know what's going on." Izuru swallowed rapidly, loath to admit the truth of that statement. Ichimaru chuckled, reading his reluctance in his eyes. "Maybe this will make it more obvious." Without any warning, he wrapped his hand around the back of Izuru's neck and pulled the blond soul reaper into a hungry, open-mouthed kiss.

Izuru's brain froze in sheer panic. His captain's tongue tangled with his, tasting of tea and dried persimmons; dark, powerful reiatsu flooded his senses. Heat surged through his veins as he drowned in the feeling. Ichimaru's hand crept up to twist through his hair, tugging his head back as the captain sank sharp teeth into the side of his neck. Izuru gasped as the sensation, just this side of pain, intensified. When Ichimaru raised his head, Izuru could see a thin sliver of pale blue underneath his captain's lowered lids.

"Does that answer your question?" Ichimaru asked casually, as if he was questioning his lieutenant about a trivial paperwork issue. Izuru just stared at him, stunned. Ichimaru brushed a tender hand over his bangs, trailing down his cheek. "Dear, sweet Izuru," he murmured softly.

Izuru gulped, unsure how to respond. His captain…had just kissed him? Not gently, either, but as if he wanted him, needed him. Belatedly, Izuru realized that he was sprawled half in Ichimaru's lap, gazing up at his captain with glazed eyes. Hastily, he tried to sit up and rearrange his shihakusho, which had gotten disarrayed somehow, but Ichimaru's hand on his chest stopped his motion before it began. Izuru closed his eyes as long fingers gently caressed the skin at the open vee of his uniform.

When he reopened them, Ichimaru's face hovered inches above his. "Oh, dear Izuru," the silver-haired captain murmured, before claiming his lips in another possessive kiss. Izuru's eyes drifted shut as the tide of sensation overwhelmed him. Ichimaru ran his fingers along Izuru's ribs, drifting under the fabric of the shihakusho and making the blond soul reaper shudder. As the kiss deepened, the captain's other hand found Izuru's hair, pulling in a way that made Izuru whine deep in his throat. Ichimaru purred against Izuru's lips at the sound.

When Ichimaru lifted his head, Izuru noticed that his hands had somehow ended up clutching his captain's haori. He broke his grip and looked away ashamedly. Ichimaru stroked his cheek, bringing his face back up. "Don't be embarrassed, Izuru-chan, ne?" he chided gently. Izuru's cheeks turned pink, but he nodded tentatively. Ichimaru's smile widened, and he brushed his lips against his lieutenant's mouth briefly. "Good. Very good, Izuru-chan," he purred. Izuru blushed harder. His captain never complimented him for anything. It made something deep inside of him relax to know that Ichimaru-taicho approved of his actions.

In an effortless motion, Ichimaru scooped Izuru up in his arms and turned to walk inside. Izuru squirmed uncomfortably, but the older soul reaper was far stronger than he looked. He ignored Izuru's weak struggles until they reached his bedchamber, a spartan room containing only a low pallet and a clothing chest. As Ichimaru slid the door open, Izuru froze – he had never been that far inside his captain's quarters before, and had no idea what Ichimaru expected from him. His captain hummed reassurance as he strode over to the pallet, gently setting Izuru down in the center.

The confused lieutenant gazed up at Ichimaru with wide eyes, fingers tangled around themselves in his lap. "Sir?" he asked hesitantly.

Ichimaru regarded him with a sleepy, inscrutable expression. "Izuru, I thought I said no formality here."

Izuru hung his head. "Yes, sir, I…it's a hard habit to break."

"Try," Ichimaru coaxed softly. "Say my name."

"I…sir…" Izuru took a deep breath. "Ichimaru-san?"

Ichimaru shook his head. "Not good enough. You know that."

Izuru's shoulders hunched. He couldn't bear to disappoint his captain. "Gin," he choked out softly.

"Very good," Ichimaru purred warmly. "Maybe I won't have to punish you after all." Izuru looked up, startled. The silver-haired captain smirked. "Misbehavior can't be allowed to slide, ne?" He cocked his head to one side. "Then again, you may enjoy it." With a swift motion reminiscent of a stooping hawk, Ichimaru flattened Izuru to the cot, pinning his wrists above his head with one bony hand. His other hand traced idle circles on Izuru's collarbone. With his full weight pressing down on the lieutenant's hips, Izuru was trapped.

Every movement of Ichimaru's fingertips left trails of fire on Izuru's skin. He arched his head back as the paths neared his neck, and Ichimaru took that for an invitation. His hand wrapped lightly around Izuru's neck and the younger soul reaper shuddered. Ichimaru leaned down, brushing his lips against Izuru's temple. "I think I was right, hmm?" His fingers tightened slightly, and Izuru bit back a moan. Ichimaru's reiatsu pressed down heavily all around him, flavored with the faintest tang of iron and persimmons. It ran over his skin like silk, played tricks on his senses. When Ichimaru moved to kiss Izuru again, the lieutenant welcomed the heat gladly.

The pressure on his throat increased gradually, until he gasped for breath. Darkness was swimming in front of his eyes when Ichimaru finally released him. Izuru stared up at him, panting, as the silver-haired captain ran a soothing hand through his hair. "Good, ne?" he mused, slitted eyes revealing a thin sliver of pale blue iris. Izuru nodded slowly, scrambling to bring his scattered thoughts into a coherent whole. The attempt crashed to a halt when Ichimaru fastened his teeth onto the base of Izuru's neck, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Izuru whimpered low in his throat, involuntarily bucking his hips upwards.

At first he didn't notice that Ichimaru had undone the white sash holding his kosode together. Then cold air drifted over bare skin, making him flinch. When he tensed, Ichimaru soothed him with a kiss. "Don't worry, Izuru-chan," he murmured, trailing kisses down his naked chest. "It'll be alright." Izuru shivered under the new sensation, arching up into his captain's lips.

When Ichimaru finally released his wrists to remove the kosode entirely, Izuru moved to help.

It made Izuru uncomfortable to be half naked, while his captain was still fully clothed, but the thought was lost in the press of Ichimaru's hand on his throat. There would be bruises there tomorrow, and the blond soul reaper welcomed them.

His captain murmured a word, and kido ropes materialized around his wrists. They yanked his hands above his head, pinioning them firmly. Izuru squirmed under Ichimaru's assessing gaze, but his captain seemed to approve of what he saw.

When the scrutiny lasted longer than he could bear, Izuru begged, "Please…"

"Please?" Ichimaru asked, amused. Izuru sought his gaze, unable to put his desires into words. Unsure if he had the right to ask for anything, here. Ichimaru smirked, brushing burning fingers down Izuru's chest. "I think I'll teach you how to beg properly," he murmured. Izuru closed his eyes.

The touch of icy steel on his skin made them pop open again, widening in terror. Ichimaru held a wickedly curved dagger to his pectorals, dragging the blade slowly downwards. Izuru froze, having seen how easily that blade could carve through muscle and organs. But his captain wouldn't hurt him like that. Right?

The blade traced a delicate pattern down his ribs, dancing over a flat, muscular abdomen before journeying back upwards. Izuru barely breathed throughout the process, staring into Ichimaru's unreadable face like a baby bird watching a snake. When the blade reached his neck, he flinched away and tilted his head back. The steel drew a cold line under his jaw and down his jugular before coming to rest in the hollow of his collarbone. "Very good, Izuru," his captain purred softly.

Izuru didn't dare move. He could feel small rivulets of blood trickling down his side – hardly worth mentioning in a real battle. Here, in this darkened bedroom, they held a strange allure. Izuru's eyes fluttered closed again, and Ichimaru laughed. "Very good," he repeated, rewarding his lieutenant with a possessive kiss. Izuru moaned into his mouth, straining towards him despite the blade at his throat.

Ichimaru allowed their tongues to dance together for a brief moment before pulling back. Izuru whimpered at the loss of the warmth, tugging futilely against his bonds. "My, Izuru-chan, it looks like you want something," Ichimaru murmured from somewhere above him. "No, don't open your eyes," he added as Izuru started to do just that.

"Taicho, please," Izuru sighed, a churning mixture of emotions surging through him. Ichimaru paused, a warning note humming through his reiatsu, and Izuru froze. "Um, I mean, sir… Gin?" The tension in the room fell away, and Ichimaru chuckled. The blade against his throat began to slowly, teasingly travel lower, until it drew a path along the waistband of his hakama. Izuru arched his back, keeping his hips pressed into the futon, silently begging for more contact. The cuts on his stomach had turned into pleasurable fire, and he would do anything if Ichimaru would just kiss him again.

"Beg for it," Ichimaru reminded him lightly. "If you ask prettily enough…" He trailed off, but his meaning was clear.

Izuru took a deep breath. "Please, sir," he whispered. "Please…I…I need…" He couldn't complete the thought.

Without warning, a hand cracked across his face. Izuru's head snapped to the side. He licked his lips, tasting blood, but kept his eyes obediently closed. "Not good enough," Ichimaru informed him dispassionately. "Do you need more encouragement?" Izuru shuddered, hips moving in tiny circles as he sought for more friction. The knife dug into his skin, doing nothing to quench the fire burning in his veins.

"Please, taicho – Ichimaru-san – Gin – I need you," he begged, unable to tell if Ichimaru was even listening.

Ichimaru's smile widened, satisfaction permeating his reiatsu. He rested a hand on Izuru's neck, and the blond soul reaper strained into it. "Better," he allowed. "It'll do for now, ne?" His fingers clenched tightly around his lieutenant's throat as he swallowed any reply Izuru might have made. Izuru arched helplessly into his touch, gasping when the foxlike captain transferred his attentions lower. The dagger still rested below Izuru's collarbone, but Ichimaru appeared to have forgotten about it as he left a line of livid bruises down Izuru's chest. Finally he raised his head, pale eyes gleaming in the darkness. Izuru whimpered.

"Beg for me, Izuru," Ichimaru commanded softly.

And Izuru did.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

The events in this chapter are not intended to be a depiction of a safe, sane, consensual relationship. Izuru's consent is intended to be dubious, at best. Gin's actions are not an appropriate way to behave in a relationship! Especially a power exchange relationship, where informed consent is paramount. This is not to say that kink is bad –it can be incredibly rewarding and fun. But I deliberately wrote this in this way to challenge readers: did you see it as consensual behavior? What if Izuru had been female – would it have looked more acceptable then? Think about it...

That said, enjoy the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

Again, this chapter is not intended to depict a consensual relationship, though it takes a slightly different form than the prior chapter. I wrote this mostly as a challenge to myself, to see if I could write something along these lines. I hope you enjoy it (or at least find it interesting)!

Warnings for this chapter: impact play, yaoi, dubcon.

* * *

Long after Izuru had fallen into an exhausted sleep, Gin padded out of the room on noiseless feet, sliding the door shut behind him with a whisper. Wearing only his hakama, he headed to the back porch, where their teacups from earlier lay abandoned. His haori and gi top had been discarded somewhere on the floor behind him, but he didn't care. He enjoyed the soft caresses of the night breeze on his bare skin, and no one would dare intrude on his quarters. Leaning against the railing, he regarded the blossoming trees with a contented, sleepy smile. His sweet, innocent Izuru had been everything he had dreamed about.

"You're very good with him," a smooth voice remarked from behind him.

Gin turned with no sign of surprise to see Aizen step out of thin air, his illusions shattering around him like broken glass. The handsome captain, clad in his white haori and black shihakusho, smiled at him gently. Only someone who knew the captain as well as Gin did would notice the hungry edge beneath the kindness. He always marveled at the way Aizen concealed his darkness beneath a bland façade.

Gin smirked at him, regarding him under lowered lids. "He's a pleasure to work with."

Aizen nodded, moving forward at a slow, predatory pace. Gin shivered as the older man paused, half a foot away, and lifted a hand to his face. "You won't be so busy playing with your new toy that you'll forget me, now, will you?" he asked softly.

Gin turned his head and planted a kiss on Aizen's palm. "Of course not, Aizen-taicho," he said smoothly. "How could I ever forget you?"

The brown-haired captain's lips spread in a cool smile. "Good." With no warning, he seized a handful of Gin's hair and yanked his head back at a painful angle. Gin went onto his toes, one hand resting on the railing for support, as Aizen bent him backwards. "Make sure you don't." With that, he claimed Gin's lips in an aggressive, open-mouthed kiss. Gin moaned as his captain's tongue tangled with his own, probing deep into his mouth as Aizen reinforced his claim over the younger man.

Aizen ground his hips against Gin, and Gin could feel the older captain's obvious arousal. He felt his own body stir in response with a familiar blend of lust and loathing. Every time Aizen touched him, caressed him, Gin swore that he would end this charade, but he never did. Instead, he arched sensuously against the only man he would ever call captain, panting as Aizen's hand tightened in his hair. _Next time_ , he promised himself through the haze of desire. _Next time_. But he knew he wouldn't keep that promise.

When Aizen released him, Gin licked his lips seductively and purred, "You're sure eager tonight, taicho. Any reason why?" Eying the older captain's flushed face and narrowed eyes, he smirked. "Did you enjoy watching little Izuru-chan writhing beneath me?" He knew his former captain had been watching – the thought had added extra spice to the encounter. _Though he only gets to watch. Not touch. Izuru-chan is mine_.

Aizen's reiatsu flared dangerously. He trailed his fingers over Gin's collarbone, then brought them to rest on his jugular. Tightening just enough to make Gin gasp, he murmured, "Does he remind you of your Rangiku-chan?"

Gin tipped his head back in surrender, relaxing into the hand wrapped around his neck. _You have no right to speak of her_ , he thought viciously. But none of that showed on his face. Instead, he laughed lightly. "My, I suppose so, in a way. He's so innocent, just like she was, ne?" His grin widened. "He'll be fun to break."

"You know, so would she," Aizen murmured in his ear.

"Oh, she lost her innocence a long time ago," Gin returned lowly. _As you know full well_. "Izuru-chan, now…" He shivered as he remembered Izuru's pained, needy whimpers when he had stripped the blond lieutenant of his last defenses and laid him open to Gin's avaricious perusal.

Aizen laughed, and, to Gin's relief, accepted the subject change. "He looked delicious." His hips drew slow circles against Gin's growing erection, and the younger soul reaper gasped.

"Now, remember that you promised I could have him to myself, taicho," Gin reminded Aizen casually. He wasn't about to let his sweet, innocent Izuru-chan end up in the hands of his captain. _I won't let him end up like me_.

Aizen's fingers tightened around Gin's neck as he whispered, "Don't tell me you care for him." His hot breath caressed Gin's ear while his other hand drew idle patterns on Gin's bare chest.

Gin shrugged fluidly. "Of course not. But he'll be a good pet if I train him right." He smirked at Aizen, pressing his hips forward. "I'm sure you understand." He looked seductively up at Aizen through lowered lashes, long practice keeping his gaze free of any untoward emotions. _He's mine. And I'll protect him_. The surge of defensive possessiveness surprised Gin with its intensity.

In one graceful move, Aizen spun Gin around and forced him into the railing, one hand bent in a painful lock behind his back. The older man dragged sharp nails down Gin's spine, making the silver-haired shinigami whimper. "So long as you remember that you belong to me."

Gin exhaled slowly and nodded. "I do." He knew the truth of that with every fiber of being, and despised it. But he couldn't escape it. As Aizen's reiatsu rose, caressing the bare skin on his chest lasciviously, he arched back in willing surrender to the man who owned his soul. _You trained me well, taicho_ , he thought to himself through a fog of yearning. _Even now, I'm addicted to your touch_. The hunger for the older man seared fiercely through his veins, a fiery serpent that devoured rational thought.

"Hands on the railing." Aizen's cold tone brooked no disagreement. He released Gin's wrist from the lock, and the slender shinigami brought his hands to the rail he was bent over. Aizen roughly tugged Gin's hips back, forcing him to assume a wide-legged posture or fall over. He chose the former, though the vulnerability of the pose made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Aizen took a step back, and he could sense the captain's critical appraisal of his trembling body.

Gin inhaled sharply as he felt Kyoka Suigetsu's razor-sharp blade skim up his legs, slicing apart his hakama without a sound. The fabric fell off of him, leaving him naked for the world to see. He closed his eyes, shivering as the night breeze flowed around bare skin. The humiliation of being exposed like this – in his own division no less – brought a pink tinge to his skin, though he knew that Aizen had cloaked the scene in Kyoka Suigetsu's power. That knowledge didn't satisfy his instincts, though, which quickened his heartbeat and made his groin throb. Blood trickled down his thighs where Aizen's carelessness had cut into his skin. That had been deliberate; Aizen controlled Kyoka Suigetsu's trajectory to within a nanometer.

For a moment, as the weight of Aizen's regard pressed into his tense back, he wondered if the older captain was going to take him like this, with no preparation. It wouldn't be the first time.

But Aizen had other plans. The hiss and crack of a whip almost came as a relief to Gin, who yelped as Aizen laid a stinging line across his shoulders. It was better this way. Better to scream under the lash until Aizen grew bored with his pain and turned to other amusements. Better to writhe and whimper as the pain and arousal built to a shameful climax that burned with its intensity. Better than, than soft caresses and whispered words of love. Gin smirked coldly. _It's not like I deserve any better. Or desire any better. Words of love are a foolish illusion for the gullible_.

He cried out as the whip cracked again and burning pain shot through his buttocks. "Good," Aizen murmured in a parody of gentleness. He swung the whip again, and a third welt appeared on Gin's back. "Very good."

Gin moaned when Aizen reached out and traced the whip marks with a cool finger. The older captain's reiatsu wrapped around him in an obscene blanket of sensation, stroking here and tugging there. Gin allowed his own energy to relax from his iron grip, reaching back to the man behind him. Aizen groaned as the power touched him, and he ground his hips into Gin's bare ass. Gin bucked back against the contact, wanton moans trapped behind closed lips.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's eager tonight," Aizen whispered as he yanked Gin's head back with a fistful of silver hair. Gin's breath stuttered as Aizen wrapped a muscular forearm around his exposed neck and squeezed. The combination of the chokehold and the heated length of Aizen's clothed erection pressed against his naked butt made him whimper feebly.

Aizen released him abruptly and shoved him back to the railing. "Did I say you could move?"

"No, taicho," Gin gasped.

He could feel the older man's cruel amusement when Aizen replied softly, "Correct." He lashed out with the whip again, tearing open a stripe on Gin's shoulder. Blood dripped down his spine. Gin cried out shamelessly, pushing his hips back towards his captain. Aizen laughed sadistically and cracked the whip once more. The blow crisscrossed the prior welt, opening another gash on Gin's bony shoulders.

More lashes followed, until Gin's back was a gory mess. He hung his head, sweat matting his hair into spiky clumps, and panted. _Damn it_ , he cursed. _Why can you always do this to me?_ His hands clamped around the railings hard enough to turn his knuckles white as he fought to keep from begging. Just one touch could send him over the edge. His hips moved in tiny, mindless circles, desperate for friction.

Aizen ran assessing fingers through the bloody smears on his back. Gin arched into the stinging touch, a pleading moan escaping his lips. He could hear his former captain's harsh breathing, though he didn't dare turn around to look at him. It was small consolation that the older man was as aroused as he was.

"Do you wish you could do this your Izuru-chan?" Aizen purred. "Break him, leave him covered in blood and begging for more?" He raked down Gin's back with sharp fingernails. "Or would you rather do it to your pretty Rangiku-chan?"

Gin screamed as Aizen's nails tore the gashes open wider. The soft words barely registered through the haze of agony and lust that burned through Gin's veins. He mumbled something incoherent, unable to raise his voice above a whisper. _Not my Izuru-chan_ , he thought muzzily. _He doesn't deserve this torturous blend of agony and ecstasy_. The mere thought of hurting Rangiku like this would have left him shaking, if he hadn't been so high on endorphins.

Aizen wrenched his head back and ran wet fingers over Gin's cheek. "Do you have an answer?"

The foxlike shinigami opened his mouth, blinking uncertainly at the muscular captain. Aizen had removed his glasses and haori at some point, setting them to one side. The change cast sinister shadows over his sculpted face, making Gin shudder. The familiar blend of disgust and desire rose to a crescendo within him as he stared into Aizen's cold brown eyes.

Aizen chuckled as Gin searched futilely for words. "I guess not." He ran his blood-soaked fingers over Gin's lips, and Gin closed his eyes. _Is this what I've come to?_ he wondered distantly as Aizen slid his fingers into his mouth. They tasted like iron and copper, the salty-sweet tang of blood, as he wrapped his mobile tongue around them and sucked. Aizen groaned lowly and thrust his fingers down Gin's throat. Gin gagged.

"Good," Aizen murmured. Gin lapped eagerly at the captain's slender fingers, needy whines bubbling involuntarily from his lips.

Aizen's hand closed around the back of Gin's neck, and he rocked against the younger man as Gin sucked on his fingers. The agony of the whip marks faded into nothingness as Gin's arousal built to a fever pitch. He realized he was begging, an incoherent stream of pleases and desperate moans tumbling around Aizen's fingers.

Without any warning, Aizen yanked his hand away from Gin's mouth and clamped it around his neck. Gin's head fell back as sparkles built in front of his eyes. He could feel nothing but Aizen's teasing reiatsu and the heat of his body as Aizen proved to him once again why he could never escape his former captain. _Please_ , Gin begged in the privacy of his own mind. _Please_.

As suddenly as he had grabbed him, Aizen released him. Gin dropped to his knees in a graceless fall, panting for breath and trembling. Aizen chuckled, petting his hair possessively. "That's a good boy, Gin," he purred softly. "Very good." Gin shivered under Aizen's gentle touch, closing his eyes and letting the world drift away. His forehead rested against Aizen's hip as the older man stroked his head in a parody of kindness.

Then Aizen stopped the pretense. Seizing Gin's hair in a cruel grip, he yanked the younger man's head back, forcing his spine into a painful arch. The sharp movement jerked Gin back to reality. He looked up with wide eyes at the powerful captain, who nodded to him with a regal expression. Gin exhaled heavily. He knew what to do – Aizen had trained him rigorously.

Hating the man in front of him – despising himself for his eager, desperate compliance – Gin began to undo the ties of Aizen's hakama.

* * *

After Aizen finally left, Gin padded back into the darkened bedroom where Izuru slept. His back stung despite the healing kido that Aizen had applied, but the residual pain didn't bother him. Looking down at the slender blond lieutenant, he was surprised to find a slow smile spreading across his face. _You're mine, pretty Izuru-chan_ , he told the younger shinigami silently. _But I'll never treat you the way he treated me. You're far too good for that_.

Gin's mouth twisted wryly. _Whereas me? I deserve everything he does to me_. He laughed to himself. _And I wouldn't have it any other way_. He sat down on the cot and ran a gentle hand over Izuru's hair. _I walked into this with eyes wide open, and begged him for everything he did to me… And more_.

Izuru rolled over and open his eyes sleepily. "Taicho?" he mumbled, reaching out for Gin. The silver-haired shinigami allowed himself to be pulled down into a clumsy embrace as Izuru buried his face in Gin's shoulder. _Ah, Izuru_ , Gin thought to himself. _You really don't know what you're getting yourself into_. That was his favorite kind of prey – so innocent, they didn't even know when a hunter was on their trail. He smoothed his hand over Izuru's back as the blonde drifted back into sleep, reveling in the silky skin under his fingertips. _You'll figure it out soon enough_ , he promised the sleeping soul reaper. _But I can guarantee, you'll love every minute of it_.


End file.
